Good luck on me tomorrow.
I know that this day will eventually come. A turning point, nonetheless. Of course, I love. All of us do. It's the quintessential aspect of being a human. Very subjective, treacherous, steep, and most importantly, unpredictable. I rarely speak about my love life. And for the obvious fact that I don't disclose for that matter does not necessarily mean I am a cold-hearted guy that spends most of his time in front of the computer working like a horse. I do love. But when I do, I tend to be melodramatic. Seriously.
If the tip I received is undeniably correct, I would be able to see her or even talk to her tomorrow in the church where we first met. It is almost two years since I saw her face, her smile, and heard her cheerful voice. She sings, too. Barbara Streisand songs, if I remember it clearly.
Her hair that moves in the summer wind. Those eyes attentively watching the world around her. The way she dresses. Damn, I cannot stop thinking about her. It's so painful. Everyday I read her tweets on twitter to know a thing or two about her. Her problems, thoughts, achievements -- I secretly compile them inside my head. A stalker? You can say that. I'm such a coward, right?
What's my plan tomorrow? Simple. Tell her what I really feel for her. I don't care her reactions would be. It's time for me to be free. To be free from this torment.